


now lower down, where the sins lie

by SunshineExploder



Series: take this photograph and i'll take this empty frame [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sex, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, dubcon, i had an idea okay, it became this, it's the hayloft scene with lams, john's pretty high, like alexander is nearly eighteen and john just turned twenty, sin pretty much, so not illegal but still dubious, sort of based on/sort of inspired by Spring Awakening, this really shouldn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineExploder/pseuds/SunshineExploder
Summary: "Haven't you heard the word of my wanting?"--Or: the fic where John and Alex basically recreate the hayloft scene from Spring Awakening, only with more weed and unhealthy relationships and bad decisions. EDIT: there's now a fic with Alex's POV of this story, it's the next part in this series. Also this has its own series now.





	

John sits on his uncomfortable dorm bed, staring out the window. New York is dark and snow falls from the sky. It creates a plush white blanket across the campus grounds, a blank space that’s hard to see through the haze of smoke. His dorm is a single and at the other end of the hall from the RA and it’s still winter break, so he’ll smoke as much as he damn well pleases. Most students are still gone, anyway.

 

Not him. Not John. Four days was all he managed at home, he didn’t even stay for New Years. It broke his siblings’ hearts, but his father was all too happy to see him go. So now he sits alone and shirtless, cold from the icy draft and flushed from the smoke. He’s practically hotboxed the room. God, he’s so glad the RA is on the other side of the hall and doesn’t care too much about weed. Anything different and he would’ve lost it by now.

 

His thoughts drift, as they often do, to Alexander Hamilton. Much as it pains him, that boy plagues his mind. John knows it’s wrong and knows that he shouldn’t be thinking about Alexander as much as he does. But he can’t run away from his own thoughts. There’s nowhere to hide in his own mind, and thus nowhere to hide from Alexander. It doesn’t even matter that such thinking locks him away from peace and throws away the key to his soul, down a dark hole he’s always avoided.

 

John really, really shouldn’t be thinking of Alexander. For one, the boy is three years younger than him and still in high school. It’s legal, he’s checked, but the power imbalance is clear as day. It was clear the day John met him at the party of a friend of a friend. Yes, Alexander is far beyond him in intelligence and always has been. Really, that boy is smarter than anyone John’s ever met. But John is older and no pure virgin. Despite how many stupid decisions he makes, he’s still an adult. He should be the more responsible one.

 

There’s a knock at the door and John’s heart both flutters and sinks. He doesn’t want to look, knows who’s there. His gaze is still trained somewhere out in the snowy night as he calls, “It’s unlocked.”

 

He hears the door open and shut. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Alexander is standing in the middle of his room and staring at him. Probably waiting for him to say something. Probably thinking how heavy the room feels with all the silence and the smoke. John’s going to pretend he won’t indulge the boy for as long as he can.

 

“God, John, how much have you been smoking? It’s like a fucking opium den in here.” Ah, the icebreaker, packed with fake vitriol.

 

John shrugs. Takes another drag. “It’s been a long day, Alex. Give me some peace.”

 

Maybe he means it as a warning. A ‘get out while you can’. If Alexander doesn’t leave soon, John doesn’t know what he’ll do. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Alexander has never heeded a single warning in his life. 

 

So Alexander comes close, sits next to John. Not close enough to press, but close enough that his knee innocently knocks against John’s and they share body heat. “I can be peaceful.”

 

John barks a laugh and shakes his hand. “You’ve never been peaceful.” He pauses, wonders if he should voice an explicit warning. Settles for, “Do you know what’ll happen?” He purposefully leaves the question open.

 

Alexander leans his whole body against John, looks up at him with endless black eyes. “You know I’ve always trusted you.”

 

That shouldn’t be all the convincing he needs. Why is that all the convincing he needs? John puts out the joint in the ashtray on the windowsill and turns to Alexander, who easily draws him in. His arms go around the boy’s waist, his face tucked right up against his jugular. Alexander tangles one hand in his unruly curls and rests the other on the small of his back. 

 

Curled around Alexander, all he can say is, “I can feel your heartbeat.” Presses his lips to the pulse point and mumbles, “Right here. It’s damn fast.” The gasp he gets is too sweet for words.

 

John pulls away and tugs Alexander up into his lap. The boy doesn’t waste time wrapping around him and setting a hand against his bare chest. “Here. Your heartbeat, too. Bet it’d be faster if you weren’t so high.”

 

That gets him a breathy laugh before John ducks down to finally kiss him, and he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but Alexander lets him. Lets him, lets him, lets him, lets him until he pulls back with pretty pink, swollen lips. It’s not the first time he’s seen Alexander like this, but it’s the first time he let himself start it.

 

“John…” He doesn’t let Alexander finish, kisses him again and presses him close with the hands at his hips. Alexander pulls away, tries again, “John, wait, no--”

 

John lets his forehead drop against Alexander’s. “Alex, it’s okay.”

 

Alexander shakes his head, but he doesn’t move away. “No, I can’t, I haven’t--” Words are failing the great Alexander Hamilton for once, and it’s delicious. “I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.”

 

And John knows, he knows Alexander is barely versed in sex. The boy is seventeen and hasn’t had much of a reason to get into sex, with his self-imposed isolation. Alexander focuses on work more than people. It’s cute, really, and John shouldn’t want as much as he does. But he knows Alexander wants, too.

 

“What?” he breathes against Alexander’s lips. His hands roam the boy’s body as he goes on, “Shouldn’t what? Love? I don’t even know if there is such a thing, Alex, but there’s wanting. There’s your heart and your breathing and you’re everything. It’s the word of your body, don’t you know? Listen, Alex.”

 

It’s Alexander who leans up to kiss John this time. He pushes, topples them back. John rolls to have Alexander underneath him, and those abyssal eyes watch him shyly and he can’t even tell if the pupils are dilated or if they’re just pure black. Nonetheless, they pull him in and shine at him as Alexander says, “I just, I don’t know, John. Please. I shouldn’t. I don’t know what I want.”

 

John could’ve never imagined Alexander Hamilton being reduced to a shy, flushed mess like this. He’s only seventeen, but so much older. And really, John is so much younger than twenty, he’s been twenty for all of four months and Alexander is nearly eighteen. Why does John feel older now, when Alexander has always made him feel like a stupid, pent-up teenager before? Why does he feel older when he’s being a reckless idiot once again? Maybe he’ll never grow out of that.

 

He leans down to ghost his lips along the tanned column of Alexander’s throat. “It’s good, Alex. It makes us feel. Listen to your body, tell me what you want.” 

 

If he says to back off, John will do so gladly. But Alexander considers for a moment then pulls him down into a bruising kiss. John grips his hips hard enough to leave marks, gets a little moan in response. Licks into Alexander’s mouth and from there the world falls away, it’s only the two of them tied together.

 

“Don’t be scared,” John murmurs quickly before letting the kiss get deep again. He moves a hand down to move up Alexander’s shirt, and they get it tugged off together. Now his hands map out the hills and valleys of Alexander’s chest and he’s never felt closer to someone. He rolls his hips against Alexander, and the boy makes a noise, pulls away.

 

“No.”

 

Alexander’s biting his lip, hesitating, so John presses. “Please--”

 

“Don’t. It…”

 

“What?”

 

There’s a pregnant pause, then Alexander rolls his hips inexpertly. It catches John by surprise and makes him groan. He grinds down, then they’re both moaning. Alexander is predictably more vocal, and John eats up all his little sighs and gasps. They’re absolutely beautiful. Alexander is beautiful. John isn’t supposed to find other boys beautiful, shouldn’t find Alexander beautiful, but how could anyone look at him and not fall in love with him.

 

John unbuttons Alexander’s pants. As he starts gently pulling them down, Alexander pulls away. “Wait…” 

 

But God, his voice is needy. John pets at his pretty curves, assures him, “It’s just me. It’s just me.” When Alexander lets him finally pull both their pants off, he smiles, a hazy thing. His thoughts are still so smoky.

 

John pulls away to fumble in his bedside drawer and pull out a bottle of lube. He doesn’t have any condoms, but he’s clean and Alexander is a virgin, and the boy doesn’t seem to care about the lack of a condom anyway. John comes back and pours a bit onto Alexander’s stiffening cock, not before licking a stripe up it. He strokes languidly, drinking in the choked moans through their kiss.

 

After sufficiently working Alexander up, John coats his fingers and reaches down to gently press on the boy’s entrance. He’s given a hurried nod, so he pushes just one finger in. It doesn’t take much probing to find that spot that makes Alexander nearly scream and moan, “Now,  _ there _ \-- now,  _ that’s _ …”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Fuck yeah.”

 

So he adds another finger. Another. Soon he’s got three fingers pistoning in and out of Alexander with an obscene wet sound and he can’t wait anymore. Alexander is writhing and flushed pink and his inky hair is spread out on the pillow. He’s gorgeous and he wants this and John would rather die than deny him.

 

Alexander whines when John pulls his fingers away and starts slicking up his cock. When he comes back to sink into Alexander, he lets out a dark moan. This must be what real sin feels like. Tight and hot and warm and wet and he could lose himself in it. He’d be happy to keep connected to Alexander forever. This whole thing is a mistake, because this one taste has John hooked. He’s addicted immediately. There’s never been a more potent drug than Alexander.

 

John rocks slowly and Alexander gasps so sweetly. He’s slow at first, but when Alexander’s legs wrap around him, he picks up the pace. He doesn’t fuck as hard as he can, he knows that’s too much. He doesn’t want to go too fast, anyhow. The way Alexander whimpers and grabs at his shoulders and arches his back, John never wants it to end. He holds his Alexander (his, his, after all this, his) close and hits that spot inside him that makes him wail.

 

Alexander hits the peak before John does. He digs his nails into John’s shoulders and throws his head back. A scream gets caught in his throat as little tears trickle down his cheeks. White paints both of their stomachs and the artist in John knows there’s no piece that could rival the vision Alexander creates.

 

Not but a minute later, long enough for Alexander to cry from overstimulation, John lets go. It’s messy and raw without a condom. White leaks when he pulls out, and there’s something incredibly intimate about it. He even leans down to give it a quick lick and Alexander keens.

 

John cleans them both up with a shirt from the floor, his movements slow and tired. Alexander just lays on the bed, curled on his side under the sheets and watching John. They’re both still naked. John feels strangely exposed, but he tries to ignore it as he slips beneath the blankets and draws Alexander close. 

 

The room smells more like sex than smoke now, and it doesn’t take long for Alexander to fall asleep against John, who watches him. John feels both like he’s built something beautiful and like he’s destroyed everything. He wants to replay the whole night back in his mind, find everything he did wrong, but he knows he won’t like what he finds. He already feels ripped apart with his own desires, already feels like nothing is going to be the same when they open their eyes again. But Alexander still trusts him enough to sleep in his arms, and that’s enough for John.

 

He presses a kiss to Alexander’s sweaty forehead, keeps his lips there. Closes his eyes. Whispers, “God, you’re gonna be my wound, aren’t you?”

 

Maybe sleeps. Probably doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> There's really nothing okay about this. Like, this is not healthy. At all. John has internalized homophobia and has feelings he doesn't know how to deal with and knows what he's doing is fucked up, but he's high and depressed and really likes Alexander. Alex has little experience with people in general (I'm gonna go ahead and say that in this universe, Laf and Herc are in college with John) and doesn't know a ton about safe sex and consent because he was busier with other things when the topic came up. He also really likes John and wants to impress him, which is B A D. N O. U N H E A L T H Y.
> 
> In case you can't tell, I'm really trying to get across the point that this is not how you deal with anything, this is very unhealthy, and there are literally no good decisions made in this fic.
> 
> I'm sorry this previously cute series now includes this sin.


End file.
